Catching Up
by MarigoldMusings
Summary: It's all because of the ring! Oneshot and nothing more. Back to my AU Fluff


**Hastily Put Together After I Woke Up With The Idea...**

Agent Tucker, looking every bit the part of a small-rig truck driver, strolled into a Queens Municipal building and blended in with the crowd. He could have been there to pay an overdue utility bill, lodge a complaint, or file a case in small claims court. Once inside the second set of glass doors he complied with the security guard, removed his well-worn navy Carhartt jacket, and tossed his belt and cell phone into a circular plastic bin. On the other side of the metal detector, he thanked a second guard, grabbed his belongings, and put them back on as he inspected a directory board. He waited until the crowd at the elevator dispersed so he could have a car all to himself and rode to the seventh floor where he turned left and entered an unmarked office without knocking.

Senior Special Agent Andrew Paylor, Ed's boss, sat behind a decades-old flimsy sheet metal desk. He was at least a decade younger than Ed, less patient, and inexplicably more cranky. It was obvious he regarded this particular assignment as a burden rather than an opportunity. He greeted Ed with his usual, grumbled, "Good morning."

"Mornin," Ed helped himself to a cup of coffee from the Kuerig which seemed oddly out of place in the dumpy, mostly-bare, outdated office. He sat in an armchair across from Paylor and waited. There wasn't much to report, so he figured he'd save his part for last.

Paylor reached into a side drawer and extracted a thin manila folder. He handed it to Ed. "This came in yesterday. Late."

It took Ed only a minute or so to skim the documents inside. Ed raised his eyebrows. "Keegans? That bar in Washington Heights? The one all the actors and politicians rallied to save a few years back?"

"That's the one," Paylor muttered, "So the mystery of how they really managed to stay open and pay that rent unravels."

"I'll be damned."

"It doesn't stop there."

Ed continued reading. The furrows in his brow deepened. "Mercy Hospital?"

"Yep," Paylor said matter-of-factly, "Seems like they're going from Douglaston, through Queens, into Manhattan, and, via someone at Keegan's, getting to some unscrupulous medical professionals at Mercy. From there? Who knows?"

Dozens of scenarios populated in Ed's mind, but the first thing he thought about was the volume of sexual assault victims who cycled through Mercy's emergency room. He remembered exchanges with Olivia, her telling him she'd be late or not able to meet at all, and, many times, the title "Mercy" was part of the reason. "Ya know," Ed began in the clipped way of speaking he'd used in the past couple of years, "Why don't I talk to one of the Captains I used to work with in Manhattan that's familiar with that hospital?"

"I'd prefer you work it from this angle, here in Queens," Paylor replied. "This is the hotspot. This is where everything's comin' in from Suffolk County and trickling down the line into Manhattan and who knows where else. The hospital's not our problem."

"It might be part of it."

Paylor shrugged. He rarely put up a fight when Ed suggested a course of action. He was a newer agent but it was foolish not to defer to his experience when he had a hunch. "Go ahead," he mumbled, "But meet up here. Jimmy O'Leary of Bartlett Distributors asking questions at a Manhattan Precinct could...turn out badly."

Ed nodded, tossed his empty cup in a wire wastebasket, and left.

…

Since it was his alter-ego's regular day off, Ed had no qualms about strolling to a nearby diner, having breakfast, and turning his phone over and over in his hand as he thought about what he'd say to Olivia. He sipped his second cup of coffee and pushed scrambled eggs around on his plate trying to convince himself that checking out this particular angle was good investigative work and not merely a selfish excuse to talk to her. He gave himself until the end of his meal to decide, so he ate slowly and contemplatively and made a mental list of everything he could and could not reveal during the call, if he did, in fact, make it. So much had happened so quickly after they parted ways almost three years ago; he had excuses for not checking in, for keeping his distance, but none of those excuses justified his decision to cut almost all ties with the Bensons. It happened because he was bitter.

So when Olivia sounded surprised yet happy to hear his voice, he relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief. "I almost didn't pick up," she said, "Didn't recognize the number."

"New phone," he quickly replied, hoping she wouldn't point out a new phone didn't necessitate a new number. "How's everything?"

"Good. Busy. New detective again so there's that. What's going on?"

Ed smirked into the phone. Olivia wasn't having the small talk and he pictured her impatiently twirling her reading glasses or peering at the action in the squad room. He heard no street noise in the background, so he assumed she was in her office. "Was wonderin' if maybe you had time to meet me today," he said, "I think we may have caught something and it involves Mercy ER staff."

"_We_ caught something?"

"Yeah, uh, I'm with the feds now," Ed explained.

"Oh...wow…I...didn't know."

"I-"

"-Not because I didn't care," Olivia added quickly, "It's, I, I guess I assumed you retired and...moved on."

"In some ways I did," Ed replied in a much softer voice. "So, uh, can you meet me today? It's a bit of a hike to get out here."

"I have some time."

Ed gave her the address.

"That _is _a hike," Olivia replied.

"Yeah."

"But I'll be there."

…

While Ed waited, he went back home-a modest two story with white siding, a screened-in front porch, and a back deck that overlooked Little Neck Bay. He, or, O'Leary rather, had a lot in common with the neighbors. They had decent jobs that provided a comfortable yet unassuming middle class life, children in college or off starting their own lives, and a predictable weekly routine that included visiting a local bar for Jets games on Sunday afternoons.

He cleared newspapers and empty glasses from the coffee table and caught a glimpse of the photos on a nearby shelf. In them he and his wife and daughters were smiling. They looked genuinely happy. Ed hoped his meeting with Olivia wouldn't somehow end up back here, because he wasn't sure how he'd explain all of this to her. There was still an hour before she was supposed to arrive, but Ed went to the appointed spot anyway. He suddenly didn't want to be around memories that didn't include Olivia Benson.

After receiving a text that she was minutes away, Ed left the second diner he visited that morning with two take-out cups of coffee. He stepped out onto the sidewalk, saw the black SUV pass, park, and stared, trying not to smile too widely, as she crossed Northern Boulevard and strode toward him. There was no hug, his hands were full anyway, but she returned his smile.

"Good to see you," she said, accepting the coffee, thanking him, and sizing up his appearance. "What exactly are you doing," she looked around at the area, "_here_?"

"My idea of getting away from it all," Ed joked. "Wanna walk? Or, we could pop into the diner around the block?"

"Walk's fine." They had taken no more than five steps when Olivia, again, questioned why Tucker had relocated to this little neighborhood in Queens. "I pegged you for a beach house somewhere down south," she said.

"Maybe someday," he replied, "But, the kids are here, and-"

It was at that moment, when Ed lifted his left hand to help silently illustrate his point, that Olivia noticed sunlight bounce off the ring and into her eyes.

"-You got married."

"Yeah I did." He couldn't look at her. If he had, he would have seen the color partially drain from her face and her midsection jerk a little as if she'd been punched in the gut. He waited until she spoke to turn toward her and, even then, he mostly used his peripheral vision.

"Congratulations," she said. "I'm glad you're, wow, Ed, I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting this," she managed a weak, apologetic smile, "Not that...you don't deserve it. Congratulations," she said again in a whisper.

Ed spoke as they walked down the block, but Olivia heard maybe every tenth word. When Ed called, she assumed the meeting was a pretext for him wanting to see her again. She thought he was, perhaps, taking one last shot a relationship, he'd congratulated her on her promotion, maybe he'd heard about it through his old NYPD pals and figured he'd give it a shot.

Maybe...he missed her.

But no. Calling her actually _was _purely business related. Ed Tucker did not make rash decisions, so she was certain he hadn't left her apartment the night of their breakup and ran out and married the first woman he bumped into on the street. He specifically told her he wanted to find someone to ride off into the sunset with, and he did exactly that. But what kind of sunset was this? A sleepy neighborhood in an outer borough and a job with the FBI? Anger boiled in her chest-he'd led her to believe they were in two different places in their lives and he goes off, accepts a higher-profile, higher-stress, more demanding position with the feds _and_ gets married? And he'd expected her to lay down the shield with him? _For_ him?

Before Ed could get suspicious, she fired off a few sentences and questions about what exactly he wanted her to do with the information he'd received that morning, but then she went right back to sorting out her feelings. Questions supplanted the anger. What was Ed Tucker's wife like? Was she at home now, fixing him lunch, and making sure their home was tidy and cozy? Or was she an Olivia Benson clone? Out doggedly pursuing a career as Ed continued his? Did she love him, or was the marriage one of convenience? This seemed unlikely, but maybe Ed realized he wanted a wife, and that he didn't want to be alone forever.

"...So that's the theory, the hunch," Ed said, "And I figured, if there was involvement with someone at Mercy, you'd want to know or, you'd have an idea of who could be involved."

Olivia crinkled her nose. She'd never suspected any criminal or untoward behavior from anyone at Mercy nor had any been reported. But she'd been around long enough to know anything was possible. "We can work on establishing a connection between hospital employees and the people at Keegan's," she said. "I can't promise we have a ton of time to spend on it, but it sounds like something I can put Kat on."

"Kat?"

"New," Olivia replied, "And eager. And this is something fairly foolproof."

Ed chuckled knowingly, "Not good at following directions quite yet?"

"More like not great at tempering her instincts to go get the bad guys."

"Ah…" They crossed another intersection and turned onto a side street. "So," Ed continued on a lighter note, "How's Noah? How's everything?"

"He's great," Olivia said, "Growing up fast. It seems like just yesterday he was in a crib and now he's a boy with a mind of his own. He-" the phone interrupted her. She was prepared to ignore the call, but it was Fin and he'd already called twice that morning. "Sorry," she muttered to Ed.

As she spoke to the Sergeant, she meandered a few steps away. Ed tugged his beanie down further over his ears and watched her move. She was still the same gorgeous, regal, confident Benson, and she always would be.

"Gotta go?" He asked after she shoved the phone back in her pocket.

"Yes, but, I'll get Kat on the hospital and let you know if she finds anything."

"Thanks. I'll walk ya back to the car."

Olivia waved him off. "That's okay. Not necessary. I'll be in touch Ed. It was good seeing you."

"Good seein' you."

Olivia started to walk away but paused, "Oh, and Ed?" She called after him.

"Yeah?"

"Noah-he still has the elephant," she said with a wistful smile, "Calls it Eddie." She felt herself choking up so she jerked back toward the direction she'd been heading and didn't look back.

Ed just stood in the middle of the sidewalk wondering how he'd ever recover from that jab to the heart.

…

In a matter of forty-eight hours, Kat found a connection. She presented it to Olivia and Rollins in the office in her typical animated, exuberant fashion. Nurse Rudy Syndergaard, who regularly crossed paths with the detectives, was close friends with the night manager at Keegan's Pub.

"Rudy?" Rollins asked. "Really? That guy?"

"Well I don't know anything for sure," Kat replied, "I did as much as I could without a warrant. These two grew up together out in Queens." She kept talking, but Olivia didn't have to continue listening. She knew they would have connections to Douglaston or Little Neck. Sure enough, that's what Kat reported.

"Tucker said they had intel about a clear path from that neighborhood to the bar and the hospital," Olivia murmured, "They just couldn't quite make the case. Any dirt on Rudy?"

"I can keep digging."

"Do it," Olivia said, "Call Carisi if you need warrants. This seems too easy, too convenient. Tread lightly."

"Copy that, Captain."

Kat scurried off and parked herself at her desk and hammered away at the keys on her laptop. Olivia predicted it would take her another day to determine if there was anything nefarious going on in the ER at Mercy, so she held off on calling Ed. What they had at the moment was a coincidence not incriminating evidence.

Rollins moved seats from the sofa to the armchair in front of Olivia's desk. "Tucker called this favor in?"

"He did."

"Your Tucker?"

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Olivia brushed off the friendly barb, "Not my Tucker," she said, "That ship has sailed."

Rollins raised her eyebrows at the regret in her boss' voice.

"He's happily married," Olivia added. "And a fed. With a house on the bay apparently."

Wincing, Rollins replied, "I'm sorry, Liv."

Olivia shrugged. "It is what it is."

"Still had to come as a shock, though, right?"

"It did," Olivia cast her a hesitant grin, hoping it would serve to convince Amanda she was okay. She wasn't, but she'd scheduled a therapy appointment for that afternoon so she could speak, vent, and cry without the judgement of a colleague she saw each day. Right now, she needed Rollins to get out of her office or at least stop asking questions.

…

Very often Olivia left Dr. Lindstrom's office only to walk right back into the world of SVU. Tonight she was hoping to be able to go home, watch cartoons with Noah, and decompress and relax as much as possible. Her hopes were dashed, though, when Kat sent a text letting her know she'd found something. Olivia remembered predicting she'd need a day and looked at her watch.

"Six hours," she murmured to herself. After a call to Lucy and a reply to Kat, Olivia drove back to the precinct. She was in a daze, or, rather, a miasma of exhaustion and confusion. Laying out her thoughts and feelings during the session only created more uncertainty and made her angrier with herself. She couldn't remember a time when she'd experienced such a crushing feeling of loss. It was worse than her mother's passing, worse than Simon's, worse than Mike's.

At work, she did her best to concentrate. Kat had found another girl she knew who was a frequent flyer at many Manhattan Emergency Rooms, mostly for overdoses but she knew other people who had been treated at Mercy's ER and later approached by Nurse Rudy. He initially presented as caring and concerned for patients and simply wanting to follow up with them before they were discharged. If the patient gave him an opening, if they seemed in need of extra attention or care, he took them aside. More often than not, the woman walked out the door with a free sample of the pills funneled in from Queens. If she returned looking for more, the next dose wasn't free.

"And, Keegan's?" Olivia asked.

"That's Rudy's after work watering hole," Kat replied, "Gets there in the middle of the night rush, raises no alarm bells, a burger, a few beers, and a resupply."

Olivia nodded and reached for her phone. It was time to loop in Tucker.

…..

Fin shivered when he jumped out of the SUV, but not from the cold. "I hate Queens," he sneered, "Reminds me of...well, I dunno what it reminds me of but it's not good. And neighborhoods like these?" He took a look at the barren, frozen landscape around him which probably came alive with fresh green hues and colorful flower beds in the spring and summer, "They give me the willies. Always somethin' weird goin' on behind those doors. And who in the hell still uses a clothesline?"

Rollins grinned, "I don't think they're actually using it now," she remarked and took a deep breath, "I don't know, I think I could live out here. Have a little yard. Some peace."

"Peace," Fin snickered, "And we're here tracking a drug dealer preying on our victims."

Olivia held up her hand as they approached Tucker's house. "_Guys_."

Tucker had been expecting them and he bounded down his front steps. He was dressed almost identically to the other day-blue jeans, plaid shirt, work wear jacket, and a beanie. He shook hands with Fin and Rollins. Despite the chill, he did not invite them inside. "How can I help you?" He asked, keeping his eyes away from Olivia. Since Tucker had already been briefed, there was no need for an elaborate explanation. They needed more intel from him, not the other way around. "Why don't we go around back?" He said, "My wife's doin' some work inside. Got a heater out on the deck."

Fin and Rollins nodded and followed.

Olivia froze for a split second.

"_My wife."_

She trudged along behind the other three. They rounded the house into a backyard that sloped toward Little Neck Bay. There was a fire pit surrounded by Adirondack chairs and an expansive deck, freshly stained, and partially enclosed for the winter. Tucker led them up the steps and offered seats on the wicker furniture surrounding a faux, propane-powered fireplace. Though the chair frames were weathered, the cushions were brand new and covered with sharp royal blue cloth.

"We moved here a couple years ago," Tucker said, "I took the job as part of a task force zeroin' in on Suffolk County, but not long after I started we figured out there's a network right here, right under our noses, in this neighborhood. Prolly the most important thing I do is head down the the bar and complain about my back. People here treat me like they've known me forever. Guys in the bar, a few of 'em we have an eye on. Meanwhile, I pretty much do surveillance while I go on about my day drivin' the truck."

"What's your wife do?" Rollins asked much to Olivia's displeasure.

"Medical sales," he said, "Always gonna be in business, but she travels a lot."

"So anything you can give us?" Fin asked.

"These two guys, from the neighborhood," Tucker said, "They popped a few times on facial recognition, but we're more interested in the big picture, the suppliers, the ones gettin' these shipments into the country in the first place, we're tracking it backwards from here-"

"-thought you said this was a hot zone," Fin interjected.

"It is," Tucker said without taking offense to Fin's objection, "A hot zone for distribution. And following it to Manhattan only took us back here. But at least you got one bad apple outta there."

"At least," Rollins muttered, "But who knows how many other Rudys there are? He's totally believable and totally under the radar."

Olivia finally added something to the conversation, "Sometimes a little too eager to help," she said.

"Sounds like someone we all, well, most of us know."

Fin, Rollins, and Olivia shared a laugh at the inside joke. Tucker stared off into the bay and blinked against the wind.

"So why don't we pay Rudy a visit tonight?" Olivia said, "He's coming off a seventy-two hour shift. I'm sure he'll be at Keegan's."

"Captain, er, Agent," Fin said, "Wanna join?"

Olivia was incredulous. First Rollins, now Fin? Was everyone she trusted conspiring to make this as awkward as possible for her? And, of course, Ed accepted the invitation.

…..

Keegan's was a longstanding neighborhood watering hole that had seen the best and worst of the neighborhood's residents over the decades. The walls were lined with framed photographs of sports legends, old _New York Times_ front pages, license plates, and the requisite beer-logo mirrors. Benson and her squad occupied a round table and drank non-alcoholic beverages. Ed arrived soon after they sat down. He was more familiarly dressed in a suit and tie. To the questioning looks, he shrugged and said, "Figured I'd better fit in."

"Like old times," Rollins murmured under her breath.

They didn't have an opportunity for small talk. Tucker hadn't even ordered when a patron burst through the front doors and screamed that someone had been shot in a car outside. Benson sprinted outside with Ed on her heels. Guns drawn, they stepped out onto the street. Seeing no one threatening, they approached the car, a boxy gold sedan with its lone occupant slumped back in the driver's seat. Olivia started to approach, but Tucker stopped her.

"Hang on Liv," he said, reaching for the door. The man appeared lifeless, but it could have easily been a ruse. Ed flung open the door and they saw the wound-a neat round hole in the middle of his chest. Ed reached in for a pulse. "Radio it in," he said, "But he's gone."

A flurry of activity followed. Squad cars arrived and the area was cordoned off. Crime scene technicians got to work gathering evidence. Portable floodlights were brought in. The uninterested passersby loped back into the bar; witnesses hung around, waiting for their turn to give their statements. The media arrived. A second wave of uniformed officers kept them at bay.

Ed quickly ducked away. He jogged to his car and sped off, calling Olivia on the way and leaving a message saying that him hanging around could backfire in a number of ways. What he didn't say was he probably shouldn't have gone in the first place, but he was desperate to spend a little time with her and maybe, just maybe she'd figure out that he wasn't telling the complete truth; surely she'd find some holes in his story.

As he crossed over the bridge, leaving Manhattan in the distance, he dialed Paylor and set up a meeting for the next morning. The Special Agent had already heard about what went down in Manhattan, and seemed unruffled. Ed drove home, parked his car, and walked into the empty, dark house. He swiped a pack of cigarettes from the drawer next to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. Sleep would probably not come easy, and he planned to spend the rest of the night on the deck.

…..

As soon as Tucker entered, Paylor tossed aside the newspaper he'd been reading and muttered, "Poor, dumb, stiff."

Ed had already seen the headline:

_Nurse Shot Dead After Shift_

The article didn't give much information other than what Ed already knew-the victim had been killed by a single gunshot wound to the chest after parking his car outside of his favorite watering hole. What it didn't mention was that his old buddy from the neighborhood, the one supplying him with the pills, had not shown up for work that night. Ed predicted he was hiding out nearby and would be easily caught within days.

"We're gonna have to pull you out," Paylor said, "Reina, too."

Ed had a gut feeling this order was imminent, so he responded with a quiet nod.

"Anything you have in the house that's a personal item, we'll pack it up and get it to you."

Ed slid his keys across the desk. He removed the wallet he'd carried since taking the assignment and handed it over. Finally, he yanked off the wedding ring and dropped it in Paylor's hand.

"Probably thrilled to get rid of that," he remarked.

Ed shrugged, "Kinda got used to it."

Paylor grunted and stared at his own ring.

"My things? My keys? Phone?"

"Oh, yeah," Paylor got up, ducked inside an adjacent closet, and rummaged around in a large, catastrophe-proof safe. He returned with all of Ed's belongings and apologized for the phone being dead. "Didn't think it was going to end like this," Paylor said.

"Yeah, uh…"

"Someone will contact you with a new assignment. If you want it," Paylor raised his eyebrows, "Might be time to...take a break for a while."

"Might be."

"Tucker, this wasn't on you."

"It's a setback."

"It is, but you were following a lead with the evidence we had and it didn't pan out," Paylor held up his palms, "Another one will come, and," he paused for effect, "You didn't like it out here anyway."

"Ah," Ed replied, "It might've been necessary."

"Might have been." Paylor stood and shook Ed's hand, "Nice working with you. Good luck."

"Same to you."

Ed turned on his heel and left the office for the last time. He left the building, stopped at a bodega, and purchased a portable charger, hoping it would have a bit of juice to at least let him call an Uber. Luckily, it did, and, an hour later, the car pulled up to his building in Hell's Kitchen. The block looked the same, but, Ed supposed, in the dead of winter changes were less noticeable. Bleakness abounded. Even when the sun was out, everything appeared gray. It felt strange returning home after two and a half years with nothing, as if he'd just run out for a quick errand. His daughters had been taking care of his place, so he was sure it was in good order. He would shower, let the phone fully charge, and work up the nerve to call Olivia.

They had some catching up to do.

…..


End file.
